


The One Time Thing That Just Keeps Happening

by urisarang



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal, Blow Jobs, Bottom Din Djarin, But like not a lot?, Chocolate Box Exchange, Dom/sub Undertones, Feelings Realization, Fuckbuddies, Light Angst, M/M, Neither of them realize they should have talked before starting this, Oral Fixation, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, feelings happen because I'm incapable of not adding them in some how, fighting turns to fucking, no beta we die like troopers, to something more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urisarang/pseuds/urisarang
Summary: The first time it happened it was a surprise to both of them.   One minute they were fighting tooth and nail trying to get the upper hand and the next they’re clawing at each other’s waists to get their hands down each other’s pants.Adrenaline, Migs had thought at first.  They had been cooped up on a planet where neither of them really knew anyone else. He didn’t think that it would happen again—he had figured that the first time would have been a one time thing but it kept happening.Again, and again.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Migs Mayfeld
Comments: 28
Kudos: 150
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	The One Time Thing That Just Keeps Happening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghost_teeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghost_teeth/gifts).



> Hi! I saw your request and just had to write you a treat as this is one of my favorite pairings. 
> 
> I tried to get as much of your likes in this as I could, it ended up decidedly more kinky than I thought it would—easily the kinkiest thing I've written in a decade. Oops.  
> I hope it is to your tastes. :D

After Migs had blown up the base on Morak they had given him a choice, he could try and make it on that shithole backwater planet with the pirates, or he could join up with them on their crazy mission. 

It was an easy choice. It also didn’t hurt that the whole fucking helmet thing earned him major points with the Mando—Din. 

Then, of course, everything went to shit right out the gate, and instead of doing one crazy mission with them, he’s somehow become part of Din’s crew? Oh, and Din is now the fucking leader of the Mandos—like all of them? So yeah, he’d be crazy to not hang on and see where this takes him. 

But he never thought it would lead to this, he thinks as he slams Din up against the wall. Brown eyes stare into his own, blown wide with arousal. 

The first time it happened it was a surprise to both of them. One minute they were fighting tooth and nail trying to get the upper hand and the next they’re clawing at each other’s waists to get their hands down each other’s pants. 

Adrenaline, Migs had thought at first. They had been cooped up on a planet where neither of them really knew anyone else. He didn’t think that it would happen again—he had figured that the first time would have been a one-time thing but it kept happening. 

Again, and again.

It would start off as training—Din was still off his game whenever he was helmetless. Still not used to being seen ever since he had broken his creed for the kid. So Migs, being the generous guy that he is, offered to help. It was a thinly disguised excuse to beat up Din for once, but the strangest thing happened every time Migs would get the upper hand. Every time he had Din pinned to the ground—

Din would stop fighting back, his struggles becoming weak and ineffective. It’s like he wasn’t even trying to break free—it was almost as if he liked it. Enjoyed being held down with his wrists pinned above his head. In fact, Migs might go so far as to accuse Din of losing on purpose so they would be in this position time and time again after that first happy accident.

They never talked about it afterward, and at this point—they didn’t have to.

It’s been going on for months now so they both know what is going to happen next. Migs presses his weight against Din as he holds him against the wall, Din’s breath hot against his ear. Sure, they could have forgone the pretense of training and just gone at it—but that would take half the fun out of it. 

Somewhere along the line, the fighting had become part of their foreplay. Having to earn Din’s surrender makes it all the sweeter once he has him on his back or knees. 

Plus it’s fucking hot. 

Migs takes one of his hands off of Din’s wrists and trails it down along his arm until he comes to Din’s face. He drags his fingertips along a stubbled chin lightly teasing Din’s bottom lip. Din’s hips shift against him, he’s already hard. Migs blesses the early discovery of Din’s oral fixation—the one damn good thing to come out of his whole helmet deal. Din’s lips part and move to chase Migs’s thumb.

“Not yet, you haven’t earned it,” Migs breathes into Din’s ear, his light touch turning into a tight grip on Din’s face pressing his head against the wall with a dull thud. A whine claws its way out of Din’s throat, an encouraging sound but Migs wants more. He slides a knee between Din’s legs. 

They part eagerly.

For someone so controlled and calm it’s amazing how quickly he breaks down to his baser instincts with Migs. He’ll pant and moan with no shame but never says more than three words—but those three he limits himself to? 

They’re all he needs to get what he wants—what he needs from Migs.

What a delight it is to hear Din beg. For him, for his cock. It makes Migs strain in his pants just thinking about it. He presses his hips into Din enjoying the feeling of the other man’s erection brushing against his own—but it would be so much better without the layers between them.

Migs applies pressure against Din’s throat—both a warning and a promise—for just a moment causing hips to jerk against his own. Interesting reaction, but he'll have to explore it another time. He's already got plans. He trails his hand down lower and works open the fastenings on Din’s shirt. One by one he undoes the ties, taking his time as he watches Din squirm. 

Once he has the shirt hanging open he moves a hand over to tease around the edges of a dark nipple. Din’s breathing goes ragged and he struggles weakly trying to chase fingers that Migs keeps just out of reach. He circles around the edges, just barely grazing here and there getting it all nice and worked up. 

He takes his time teasing Din, switching between his nipples here and there but really tormenting his right—but never quite touching. A slight sheen of sweat appears on Din’s skin from all his struggling to keep still like he knows Migs wants him to. 

Now that deserves a reward. 

Using his position between Din’s legs he lightly brushes himself against Din earning a quiet moan as Din’s eyes fall shut—just like Migs knew they would. The move is just a distraction to keep the other man’s attention elsewhere while Migs gives him what he _really_ needs. 

Migs clamps his teeth down on Din’s nipple with no warning. Din lets out a positively tortured sound and his back arches—but he can’t escape the sensation. Can’t escape Migs with his back pressed against the wall. Migs tugs lightly with his teeth just because he can before he soothes the burn with a flick of his tongue. He sucks and licks the over sensitized nipple until the delicious sounds of anguish begin to slide into sounds of pain before he relents.

He admires his work for a moment, Din looks _sinful_ against the wall. His shirt laying open, chest heaving—his now swollen nipple exposed and glistening in the low light. His mouth is parted as he pants in gasps of air, His eyes are half-lidded with anguish and desire in equal measure. 

“Please,” One of the only words he’ll say when they do this.

And the one and only word Migs wants to hear come from lips that are just begging to be fucked. Migs reaches up brushing those lips, but Din is good this time, he doesn’t follow Migs’s thumb as it traces the seam of his lips. Migs takes a step back and releases Din’s wrists.

“On your knees,” The speed in which Din complies sends a shot of precum leaking from Migs's cock. Din looks up at him from where he kneels. Waiting, wanting, needing. “Hands behind your back, good. Just like that.” 

Din clasps his elbows behind his back like the good little soldier that he is and Migs intends to give him his reward. He works open his pants and pulls his cock out giving it a little squeeze when he sees Din subconsciously lick his lips in anticipation. He takes his free hand and grabs the hair at the back of Din’s head and gives it a little sharp tug.

Din’s mouth opens to cry out in pain but Migs fills it right up before he can get out more than a muffled cry. The sound goes from pained to _filthy_ in an instant. Such a slut for anything in his mouth and Migs loves it.

He opens up so prettily and eagerly for his cock sucking Migs in deep without any hesitation. He wants this, needs it, and the only way he’s going to get it from is Migs. It’s a heady feeling of power to know that no one else is getting this.

Here he has the ruler of Mandalore on his knees moaning around his cock like a horny twi’lek working a bar. He might not have the technique nor the experience, but he more than makes up for it in sheer eagerness to please. 

His need to be taken and used.

With that thought in mind, Migs takes over sliding his cock in and out of Din’s willing mouth. A low rumble of approval teases his cock as Din moans. With one hand he grips the back of Din’s neck and with the other, he toys with the side of Din’s mouth. Teasing at sliding his finger in along with his cock—it would be too much, Migs is anything but small, and yet Din doesn’t care. In fact, he seems to get even more turned on by the thought of it if the sounds he makes are anything to judge by.

Sweat begins to run down the sides of Migs's face as the heat and pressure of Din’s mouth works its magic on him. It feels so good sliding slowly in and out of that wet heat, but this isn’t just for him. 

He knows what Din really needs.

Gripping the sides of Din’s face Migs begins to thrust in earnest. Fucking into Din’s open mouth hard and fast without any warning. Din chokes on the first few thrusts but like the champ that he is he relaxes his throat to let Migs in deeper.

Migs can’t look away from the sight that is Din on his knees, lips swollen around his cock, with his face twisted in pleasure. He loves this, loves the way Migs fucks his mouth moaning and groaning with every snap of Migs’s hips. 

He wonders if Din could come just from sucking his cock. Now that is a thought, a very tempting one. Sadly, ss much as he loves fucking this mouth, he really needs to let loose and fuck Din into the floor until he has bruises on his bruises.

Reluctantly, because who would want to leave such an eager mouth, he pulls out. Din tries to chase him for a moment in his turned on haze but he quickly catches himself, leaning back on his knees with his arms still firmly behind his back.

He knows he only allowed whatever Migs lets him have—and no more. 

“Strip,” His voice is rough with desire and dripping with command. A shiver rolls across Din at the words, and at the tone. 

With practiced movements, he strips off his clothes while Migs watches. His hand works on his cock enjoying the sight of Din completely naked before him while he’s still fully clothed himself. There’s just something about the contrast that drives Migs wild.

When Din is distracted taking off his last sock Migs throws himself at Din and none too gently either. He trips Din’s feet out from under him causing him to lose his balance. Migs catches him on the way down though he doesn’t completely stop Din’s fall. A burst of air is forced from Din’s lungs as he hits the ground with some of Migs’s weight falling down on top of him. 

Migs wastes no time capturing swollen lips in a kiss that has Din keening underneath him. He slides his tongue inside as Din gasps for breath needing to taste him. Tasting himself on the other man’s tongue.

A hand reaches up touching Migs’s face, but he never gave permission for that. He pulls back just enough so that he can recapture those wrists and slams them into the ground over Din’s head. 

Din’s breathing goes rabbit fast and his eyes become dark pools of lust. Migs can feel Din’s entire body go limp in submission and it makes his cock jump at the power he has over Din. 

He may be the ruler of Mandalore, might be one of the toughest sons of bitches Migs has ever known—but here? Now? He’s completely at Migs’s mercy. He can take whatever he wants, and Din will let him. No, not just let him. 

He’ll be grateful for anything he gets, Migs could get up and walk away right now and Din wouldn’t stop him.

Oh, he’d beg so sweetly but if Migs left he wouldn’t stop him—and he’d still come back for more the next time they _sparred._ Migs would bet on it—not that he’s ever going to do that. Not with how beautiful Din looks spread out beneath him. 

Taking his other hand he brings it to Din’s mouth holding out two fingers.

“Suck,” he doesn’t need to be told twice, opening up and sucking Migs’s fingers into his mouth. “God, the mouth on you.” Migs growls as Din works his fingers just as hard as he had worked his cock earlier. A flicker of lust that promises more in dark eyes has Migs briefly reconsidering finding out if Din can get off just from Migs’s cock in his mouth—but no.

He needs to make sure Din feels this in the morning—hell, he wants to have Din limping into next week. A constant reminder of their time together. 

Something to make sure he comes back.

Migs shifts back onto his elbow and rolls to the side taking his weight off of Din as he pulls his fingers from Din’s mouth. He slides just the tips of his fingers across Din’s skin as he makes his way down. He grazes the abused nipple and Din bites his lip to keep himself still but Migs doesn’t linger and continues. 

He watches as Din’s cock twitches and jumps the lower he gets, but that isn’t his goal. He trails his fingers along the side of Din’s hip avoiding the straining erection that is just _begging_ for his attention. 

Nudging with his knee he motions for Din to raise his left leg so that he can reach his real goal. Din slides his knee up and spreads his legs open wide as he can with Migs still laying partially on his side atop him. Migs stops for a moment to gently cup Din’s balls on the way, enjoying the heavyweight in his hand.

“You haven't been saving up since last time have you?” Migs asks mostly as a joke but the look Din gives him? Raw need and something more—ignites something primal within Migs. He wants to claim, to own Din in more than just the stolen moments like these. But when Din offers a short, shaky nod of his head, vulnerability shining in his eyes?

All rational thought flies out of his head.

“Fuck,” his voice shakes, coming out half a growl. He needs to be inside Din fucking yesterday. Throwing out all pretenses of finesse and dragging this out he makes quick work of stretching Din. His fingers scissoring just enough he won’t _really_ hurt Din—but not enough that this will be painless.

He’s only fucked Din a handful of times but they’ve done it enough that Din must realize he’s not nearly as stretched as he should be—but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes burning with the same intensity as Migs’s are—it’s as mesmerizing as it is terrifying. 

Migs is the first to look away.

Not wanting anything in the way, he works his pants down around his hips a bit but stays mostly clothed. He shifts up pushing Din’s other knee up and he positions himself at Din’s entrance with one hand, the other still holding Din’s arms above his head. He risks a glance up to see Din watching him as he lines up, desire written all over his face. 

Migs presses in slowly with only the half-dried saliva from Din’s mouth on his cock for lube. It’s not enough—not with how poorly he’s prepared Din. He pulls back with a curse before fumbling through his pockets for a moment before he finds the packet of lube he picked up for just this.

He tears the packet open with his teeth spilling half of it on Din’s chest as it bursts open. No matter, he’s got enough to make this work. He pours the remaining lube onto his cock and gives it a few strokes to spread it before he lines himself up again.

This push goes much smoother. Inch by inch he slides in, savoring the tight stretch. Din’s muscled thighs tremble slightly where they clamp around Migs’s waist. Migs stops to catch his breath once he’s fully seated, gods above is he tight. 

He could live here, in this moment buried deep inside Din’s welcoming body. He reopens eyes he hadn’t realized had closed and looks down at the man below him. Din is biting his lip, his eyes scrunched tightly closed in pain but he doesn’t cry out. Doesn’t push Migs away, he takes it.

He needs it.

Din’s even harder than when they started, his cock leaking making a mess of his stomach already. Migs lets out a breath as he slowly pulls back enjoying the feeling of Din clenching tight around him. Din reopens his eyes and his mouth opens and he sucks in a gasp of air as Migs slowly pulls most of the way out of him.

His biceps flex as he strains to keep still, but he manages. It’s just the head of his cock in Din now. He pulls out a little more, teasing at pulling out entirely before pushing back in just as slowly as he had the first time. 

Din’s back arches up off the ground, his legs shaking around Migs’s hips as Migs pushes back inside. Migs leans down and just breathes on Din’s abused nipple, but not touching. A strangled whine works its way out of Din as he struggles to keep quiet, always so shy with vocalizing his pleasure. 

Migs loves the sounds he makes—but he’ll be honest having to work for it makes it so, so much better. He knows beyond any shadow of a doubt just how good it is for Din once he’s crying out in earnest. 

His free hand squeezes Din’s hip and just as he’s about to bottom out he leans all the way forward sucking Din’s nipple into his mouth. His tongue licks and swirls around Din’s nipple while he makes short, shallow thrusts. The hold Din has around his waist with his legs goes crushing and he lets out a surprised wail of sound.

Migs gives him one last little nip earning a twitch of Din’s hips up against him before he’s pulling back up. Din is looking up at him, eyes nearly black with need and mouth parted as he takes short, quick breaths in. 

Din swallows heavily with Migs’s attention on him, a tongue darting out to lick his lips. His breathing going just a bit more ragged with each second they maintain eye contact as Migs continues so slowly rock in and out of Din’s body. 

Migs feels his own breathing begin to grow ragged. Something powerful, intense is growing between them. He can’t look away, it feels like Din is drawing him in and he’s struggling to resist. 

Giving Din’s hip one last too tight squeeze he moves his hand up to hold the side of Din’s face. His thumb sliding along Din’s cheekbone, a soft caress—the only they’ve shared. Din’s eyes go soft and then Migs is leaning in covering Din’s mouth with his own.

Stealing his breath away.

Din moans into his mouth, his lips parting eagerly. Wanting, needing a taste, and Migs—for once—doesn’t make him wait. 

Can’t wait himself, so he dives right in. God’s above it feels good to take his mouth while he’s inside him. A moan of his own rolls out of his throat as Din’s tongue brushes his own. So eager, so needy.

And all his.

His thrusts get faster and faster as their kiss turns more and more heated until he can’t take it anymore. He pulls back with a growl his hand moving to the back of Din’s head for leverage as he snaps his hips forward. Din arches back his eyes rolling shut as Migs begins to pound into him in earnest. Din’s legs become like a vice around him the only semblance of control he’s allowed.

The room fills with the sounds of his hips slapping into Din’s ass, and the cries of pleasure Migs wrings out from Din’s body. He pumps his hips into Din enjoying the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of Din roughly. Din bites his lip between his teeth after a particularly rough thrust—but that just spurs Migs on harder.

The thought of fucking Din raw until he can’t even walk has him snapping his hips without mercy until Din is crying out—but not in pain.

“Harder,” his voice is wrecked as he begs. “More, please.” 

The sound of Din begging so sweetly has Migs closing his eyes and focusing really, really fucking hard on not coming right then and there. He digs his blunt nails into Din’s wrists as his grip turns crushing as he struggles to get a hold of himself—it does nothing to stop the whimpers of more from falling from Din’s lips. 

Migs closes his eyes and bites the inside of his cheek needing the shot of pain to get himself back under control—or as under control as he can get with Din panting beneath him. A beat passes as then Din’s whimpers cut off.

One breath, and then another, and Migs is reopening his eyes. Din has his eyes pressed tightly closed and he is faintly shaking. It takes a moment for Migs’s lust-addled brain to make sense of what he’s seeing but when he does it sends a shot of something straight to his gut. Not lust, at least not entirely—but just as powerful.

Every time they’ve done this Din has lost himself. A slave to his body’s needs, but not this time. He’s struggling to hold himself still, to keep from begging when Migs knows just how much he needs this. Needs the release of submission what with his unwanted burdens as Mand’alor.

But he’s holding out, fighting with himself because he knows Migs will want this to last and he’s too close already.

Fuck.

Migs bends the rest the way over and presses his forehead against Din’s momentarily overwhelmed and he doesn’t know what to do with it. Din lets out a sound Migs has never heard before when their foreheads touch.

His hips jerk and spasm as he clamps down hard on Migs’s cock. Migs can feel hot liquid shooting between them getting on both their chests as an orgasm rips through Din. 

He has one second to think ‘holy shit that’s hot’ before he’s going over the edge himself pushing in as deep as he can get before he’s crying out. He thrusts weakly as he spills deep inside Din. Another jet of warmth against his skin as another raw sound of anguished need escapes Din’s throat.

They pant into each other’s mouths for a time as they catch their breaths and come down from _that_. 

Holy shit, that had to have been one of the best orgasms Migs has ever had—and he hardly even had to work for it. Normally he needs to work up a sweat, get close to the edge a few times if he wants to go off like that. 

Goddamn.

He blinks his eyes open his head still pressed against Din’s. They’re too close to see properly but he can tell Din’s eyes are closed in bliss. Migs pulls back to get a better look and those eyes fly open.

It feels like Din is looking into his soul, his expression intense. A heat burns in his eyes, a need left unsatisfied even after having an orgasm so strong he came without a single touch—without Migs pounding it out of him surprising them both.

Din blinks then blinks again and the needy look turns to one of regret and sorrow. He looks uncomfortably close to tears. Migs hates that he knows what that looks like, and he never wanted to see it again after Din had given up Grogu.

Did Migs take their game too far? Did he cross a line somewhere? He tries to think back if he did anything to warrant this kind of reaction but his mind is worse than mush after the orgasm he just had.

“I’m sorry,” Din breathes out, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, no it’s okay,” Migs says letting go of Din’s wrists and reaching out to cup Din’s face. “Did I hurt you? Whatever I did I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” Din sucks in a breath of air and sounds dangerously close to doing just that.

“My fault, I know you don’t—” Din stops as he chokes up. He struggles for a moment before he swallows it down. “You don’t want this, but then t-the _kov'nyn_ —and I know you don’t know what it means but I—I can’t help it.”

Migs eyes dart back and forth as he tries to follow what Din is saying, but he’s rambling nonsense to Mig’s ears. Migs shakes his head in confusion, only one thing sticking out to him.

“What do you mean I don’t want—don’t want what?” 

“Me.” 

Migs blinks at him not understanding until suddenly he does.

“Fuck.”

A hundred different scenes of his interactions with Din flash through his mind. The lingering looks, standing too close, accidental brushes of skin that were no accident. All the signs of interest he was too blind to see. 

Sure he knew Din wanted him, that much was obvious. But he never thought—

That Din could _like_ him.

That changes things, changes a lot of things. He refocuses on the outside world to see that Din has turned his head to the side away from Migs. Eyes staring blankly at a wall, his mouth a thin line with his jaw clenched tight. 

Migs gently turns Din’s head but Din won’t meet his eyes, looking down at nothing.

“Hey, look at me?” Migs asks, his voice softer than he knew he could make it. “Please?” Din’s face crumples up and he squeezes his eyes tight but after a moment he does as Migs asks—like he always does. 

Fuck, he’s an idiot.

Din looks sad and resigned—Migs doesn’t like that look on him at all—and that fact? Makes him even bigger of an idiot to not realize he just might give a shit too. What a fucking mess he’s made of this.

“Who said I don’t want you?” Migs asks, his heart pounding as he makes a rash decision. “Cause it seems pretty obvious I want you plenty.” Din’s eyes widen but the sadness remains, he doesn’t believe Migs.

“If all I wanted was an easy lay, why would I pick the fucking Mand’alor of all people? Have you seen the looks I get after every time we do this? I’m pretty sure your buddy Paz called dibs on fucking my world up if I hurt you.” It starts off as a joke to break the mood but it quickly falls flat once Migs realize that he’s been hurting Din. 

Probably has been for some time now. 

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Migs announces, “Doing this shit all backwards, you deserve better than this. I should have—I should have realized sooner. Shouldn’t be having this conversation like this—fuck Din, I’m sorry.”

Migs moves to try and untangle himself but Din won’t let him. His legs just as much a vice around his waist now as when they were—when they were making love. Very aggressive and kinky love, but he can’t deny that it felt different this time. That there was something more between them.

Something they both felt.

Din’s hands shake as he moves them up to Migs’s face.

“Do you mean that?” He sounds so unsure—as if he thinks he’s undeserving. 

Fuck that.

Migs presses his forehead against Din’s again, he might not know what it means but he’s not a complete fucking moron. He’s seen a few of the other Mandos do this he just never thought about it. Didn’t think it would matter to him—okay maybe he is a complete moron after all.

Din goes completely still against him, a soft puff of air escaping his lips in a sigh. Migs leans in further and presses his lips against Din’s softly. Reverently. He runs his fingers through Din’s hair, not pulling just touching.

Migs pulls back just far enough so that he can look into Din’s eyes when he says it.

“Yeah, I mean it,” a hopeful look in Din’s eyes. “Of fucking course I mean it. You’re a catch. Who wouldn’t want you?”

A hiccuping laugh bursts out of Din, it’s music to Migs’s ears. He can count on one hand the times he’s heard Din laugh, but he remembers each and every one of them. Migs feels his own face smile back, but then a thought hits him and his face falls.

“Hey uh,” he starts awkwardly, more than a little worried about the answer. “All this time, you haven’t—you haven’t felt like you _had_ to did you? Like all the roughness—please tell me you were just as into it as I was. I don’t think I could handle it if you weren’t, that I—”

Din grabs his face and silences him with a kiss that starts off soft and quickly grows passionate. By the time Din releases him Migs is breathless. He stares down at Din in awe as Din takes one of his hands and presses it against his throat.

Right over where Migs had pressed against in promise.

“I like it,” Din admits quietly, shy to say it outright.

“Thank fuck,” Din lets out a laugh at Migs’s enthusiasm before Migs steals it away with another kiss.


End file.
